


Lights That Dwell Amongst Us

by HaraJorja



Series: No Ordinary Heart [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26362960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaraJorja/pseuds/HaraJorja
Summary: The first war ended in grief and darkness. The last remnants of evil lingered but for a moment before slipping away, but for some, the scars and the pain remain. Unable to shake them, unable to trust the new, oddly unsettling peace, the witches and wizards left behind have waited for the thing they dread the most.For ten years, there is quiet. Until a boy arrives at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the tremors begin once again. Soon the tremors of evil become a full force, the great fear of before and for those willing to fight for the good, life hangs in the balance.Everyone will be put to the test and although it seems as if the fates of the good and evil are already written, it is not always so.
Relationships: Aberforth Dumbledore/Poppy Pomfrey, Albus Dumbledore/Minerva McGonagall, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s)
Series: No Ordinary Heart [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/590443
Kudos: 9





	1. BOOK ONE: Chapter One - A Second Hatstall

As the students began to pass through the great double doors and into the hall, Professor Minerva McGonagall stood quite still. Her face, square, still and straight-lipped, along with her piercing stare, bore down on the babble of students as they strode past her, their excitable mutterings and exclamations fading quietly as they did. Outwardly, the deputy-headmistress was as smooth as marble, as cold as the stone that made up Hogwarts but inwardly, her heart was burning and her stomach jumping and jittering. It was an odd combination of nerves, excitement and fear with which Minerva was wrestling but to any of the returning students who looked her way, there was nothing amiss about their Professor, whose bark and bite (many had learned) were just as bad as each other. 

It was the first day of the new school year and Minerva was waiting patiently for the new first years, freshly turned out in their school robes and no doubt pale with nerves, to sail across the lake on their little boats and congregate in the entrance hall, clinging together for support. Minerva had waited for these boats every new school year for many years now but never had she as she did on this very evening. Her hands, held at her sides, were clammy and shaking. Her breath came in fits and starts as her eyes, green, sharp, eager did not blink. Her ears were pricked to listen for the soft, dull clattering of young children clambering from the boats. To hear the wood thud against the boathouse and creak as they bobbed in the black waves. Her ears were straining and if she could have been, she would have been pacing the floor, her emerald green skirts rustling as she did and her shoes tapping on the flagstone floor. 

Alas, everything relied on her acting as strictly, as normally as possible. To become the flittering fool she felt inside would be the undoing of years of pain and heartache. To reveal her anxiety and apprehension would be to arouse suspicion and cause ridiculous discontent between her and a few other Professors, all whom had worked so hard for this moment.

From behind the now closed doors, Minerva could hear the hubbub of the students as they took a seat at their house tables, as they gawped and theorised about the new year, as they caught up with old friends and enemies, as they commented on each Professor and surmised who did what and when during the holidays. She could picture the row of Professors, seated at the long table before the students, readying themselves for the new year; some worried about their lesson plans, some concerned for the new arrivals to their houses, some already missing the carefree days when a hundred pairs of eyes were not following your every move. She could imagine how a certain number of them were feeling; the headmaster intrigued, eager to meet two of the new students, readying himself for the years of education and support ahead; the potions master pale and black-eyes, longing for the moment to be over so that he could catch his glimpse and then bury himself once again in the dungeons; and the medi-witch, concerned as she mulled over what the new school year meant for her family. 

Finally, she heard the nervous but exhilarated chatter rise up from the boathouse and before long, Minerva watched as the young students filed in, eyes wide, drinking in the entrance hall with their mouths wide open and their faces flushed. From a simple glance, Minerva could recognise some of the students; pale, blonde Malfoy with his snared lip, just like his criminal father; round faced Longbottom, who resembled his mother to such an extent that Minerva's stomach filled with great pity and despair; and flame-haired Weasley, pale, covered with freckles - the first Weasley child who would never have known Minerva as 'Aunt.' And then, standing next to Molly's youngest son, was the dark-haired, green-eyed boy that the world, and Albus especially, was most interested in. 

Harry Potter was a thin, nervous looking boy whose expression was one of relief and slight apprehension. His dark, unruly hair stood up in all directions and his dark, new robes swamped his small frame. He had a glow of both misery and gratitude about him; as he if he'd finally been let free and the new world he found himself in was one of shining gold. Narrowing her eyes a little, Minerva could make out the scar on his forehead, a scar that Albus had muttered to be very important indeed. Minerva knew that Potter was going to change the world; she felt sorry that such a burden would be placed on his young shoulders, he was, after all, only a child. 

And then, Minerva felt her heart lurch and her head felt as if it would burst. Amongst the crowd of awed, frightened students, she caught sight of the little girl with bushy hair and slightly-bucked teeth. She looked just as her mother did at that age, beauty hidden by the slight awkwardness of her age; except her hair, of course, which must have come from her father's side because Minerva knew of no mousey-brown brunettes in her mother's. Hermione Granger was at Hogwarts. Hermione Granger, who had been knowingly lost and unexpectedly found, was at Hogwarts. It took all of Minerva's strength not to rush down to her, not to pull in her into the softest embrace that Molly Weasley was so very good at. For eleven long years, Minerva had been without family and now... Now she remained still without them. 

With a hidden sigh, Minerva pushed her own feelings aside and drew herself up, so that she towered over the children. Jaw clench, eyes glittering, she benga her usual, well-rehearsed speech: "Welcome to Hogwa- Please, settle down! - Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall. We begin the year with a feast before the Headmaster gives his speech and instructions for the year. Then you will be taken to your dormitories. Before that, of course, you will be sorted into your houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin," a soft murmur rose from the crowd as they muttered anxiously to each other. "Now, come along." 

Minerva lead the group through the centre of the great hall, beneath the bewitched sky filled with floating candles. Excitable babbles and 'ohhhh's' and 'ahhhh's' trailed behind her and as she reached the stool at the front of the hall, she nodded at Albus, who was sat forward in his high-backed chair, leaning in, head slightly tilted with intrigue. As usual, she explained the sorting process and, in a loud, clear voice, began to call out the names on her scroll. 

It was easy enough until she got to 'Granger, Hermione.' Suddenly, a great lump rose in her throat and her hands trembled ever so slightly. The letters seemed to transform and re-arrange themselves before her eyes until all she could see was: 'Dumbledore, Eleanor,' and she could picture Eleanor pushing forward through the crowd, smiling grimly as it became known who the red-haired girl's father was. Yes, for a moment, Minerva quite forgot where she was, who was relying on her and what she should be doing, until she heard a cough from over her shoulder and glanced around to see Poppy Pomfrey nodding at her. 

"Right, yes," she whispered before regaining her voice: 'Granger, Hermione.' 

Hermione Granger stepped forward, her mouth white and her eyes bulging. She sat down slowly, staring over the top of the heads of her fellow students as Minerva placed the sorting hat on her head. 

"Granger, you say? Hmmm, odd,' (at this, Albus and Minerva's eyes both widened in alarm whilst Severus seemed to rise from his seat), 'no matter, no matter! Well, you are particularly complicated, aren't you? A hint of Slytherin but... no, I don't think so, no. Gryffindor? Hmmmm, maybe, yes. Brave, loyal - but look! Look! Do you see? No? Well, let me tell you - Brains, dear girl, brains and wit and oh! You know everything, don't you? It's all here. Ravenclaw could be the making of you! Ravenclaw, the brightest bunch! And how well you would fit in! How well, you'll swamp them all! But... But... Oh, Miss Granger, I do believe we have a hatstall on our hands! Where do you belong? Where should you go? Why, how interesting! I haven't had this much to consider since I sat upon Minerva McGonagall's head! Such talent, such brains she had - why, very much like you! But, I feel your bravery. I sense your loyalty. I feel it, it's very strong. Ravenclaw could hoist you into the heavens but, the heavens you may not enjoy. No. You don't it, you don't need it. You have intelligence of your own, you don't need a house to help you, do you? No, No! Friends! Family! Honour! A chance to prove yourself. You want to...Just like Elea...,'(Severus's chair now scrapped across the floor as he got to his feet and Minerva reached out, ready to pull the hat from Hermione's head), 'but...not today, it seems. Not today, dear girl. No, I've kept everybody waiting for much too long. Decisions need to be made. I should choose. I should decide... Ravenclaw, will it be? Or Gryffindor? Okay, Okay. My decision is: GRYFFINDOR!" 

As the Gryffindor table cheered and clapped, and Hermione, slightly flustered, rushed over to them, Minerva could have fainted with relief. Severus, if possible, had turned even paler, and as she glanced at Albus, Minerva noticed that he seemed quite alarmed. 

*

Minerva was not surprised when Poppy turned up at her front door that evening. Usually, Minerva spent her evenings alone, reading, marking, lesson planning - anything to keep her mind off of the fact that she was indeed, alone. Anything to allow her to forget that her husband slept in a different part of the castle and her daughter slept beneath the earth. However, after the hatstall, coupled with the arrivals of Hermione and Harry Potter, Minerva was half-expecting somebody to interrupt her mundane evening and she was pleased enough when she saw Poppy smiling at her as she opened the door. 

"Not your first day but, it is A first day," Poppy grinned holding up a bottle of wine. "Aberforth is closing the pub tonight, so he will be late anyway, so I thought: 'I know! I'll go and see Minerva. I'm sure she'll be pleased to see me!'" Poppy winked mischievously. 

Minerva laughed. "I am, I am! Come in," she leaned forward and kissed Poppy's cheek. "Odd sort of day, don't you think?' 

Poppy chuckled and shook her head and she passed Minerva and entered the sitting room. As she sat down, she drew out her wand and summoned two glassed from the kitchen and a corkscrew. "Very odd indeed," Poppy said, pouring two, hefty glasses. "I noticed that Albus was very intrigued by Harry Potter. I mean, I think the whole Wizarding world is but I was surprised by Albus. He doesn't usually follow the trend." 

It was still odd to hear Poppy talk about Albus without disdain or outright scorn evident in her voice. For years, she had detested Albus, and had tried her very best to spend as little time with him as possible. However, since before William and Eleanor's death, Poppy's feelings for Albus had thawed and she now spoke about him with affection, and sometimes, pity, in her voice. 

"He's been counting the days for Potter's arrival. I, of course, am not sure why but I would bet that some part of it is to keep his mind off of the fact that Hermione also arrived today." 

Poppy sighed. "In case you hadn't noticed, I was trying to steer us away from that conversation." 

"There is no conversation to be had," Minerva said tightly. "Hermione is here, at Hogwarts, to learn because she is a witch." 

"And it doesn't bother you that your granddaughter is now beneath the same roof as you, in your very house?" 

"It cannot bother me. Severus had made it quite clear that nothing is to be done and I must do as he says," Minerva pursed her mouth. 

"But what is he so worried about? What harm can come to her now? Now that You-Know-Who is gone?" 

"Oh, Poppy. We both know that Riddle hasn't gone. Not forever. Such powerful magic doesn't just... disappear. Severus is waiting for the return and he doesn't want it known that Hermione has anything to do with him. Or Albus." 

"Or you," Poppy said proudly. 

"Ha! No, I do not think that her McGonagall blood is a worry for Tom Riddle-" 

"Well,it should be," Poppy barked. "Didn't you stand up to him, rather bravely, I might add, back at the cottage? Aren't you the most powerful witch to be born since, since - well since Dumbledore himself? And, didn't you help Albus take down Grindlewald? Oh, Minerva, if Riddle has any sense he would be just as concerned about a McGonagall as he is about a Dumbledore!" 

"Perhaps," Minerva shrugged elegantly. "Perhaps. Either way, Severus will not budge on the Hermione topic." 

Poppy raised her brows but remained silent. She had the upmost faith in Minerva and believed that Hermione would be safer with her blood-family, than her adopted one. She did not accept that Minerva, as powerful as she was, hadn't been able to protect Eleanor, or Poppy's son, William, from Tom Riddle - that did not cross Poppy's mind. Instead, she remained adamant that Minerva and Albus had just as much say about Hermione's well-being as Severus Snape did but, alas, neither Severus, not the separated Dumbledore's agreed with her. 

Somehow, they moved on from Hermione and Potter, and instead began discussing their plans for the year, commenting on the Philosopher's Stone and all of the work that had gone into protecting it. They laughed at Quirrell's sudden nervousness around Minerva, who seemed to almost have the man in tears whenever she uttered a polite' good morning,' to the trembling man. They all but prayed for the House and Quidditch cup this year, for the downfall of smug Slytherin and the smile to be wiped from Severus's face. It was a nice enough evening, laughing at the mundane, ignoring the sadness that always seemed to follow the two women. Nice until there was another knock at the door, causing both Minerva and Poppy to furrow their brows. 

"Who is that? Surely not a student already?" Poppy muttered. 

"You don't think..." Minerva trailed off as she made her way to the front door. For a brief moment, her heart fluttered excitedly. Could it be Albus, come to discuss the day's events? Since Eleanor's death, Minerva didn't see much of Albus. Even when Minerva returned to the school as his deputy, she hardly saw him alone. Sometimes, she was grateful for it, for she was too pre-occupied, her mind too full, to deal with the feelings that churned throughout her body whenever she thought of him but sometimes, she simply missed him and longed for a moment with him. Stupidly, she sometimes listened out for him in the evenings, just in case he might decided to visit her and she would go to bed disappointed when he did not arrive. When he came to her in the Summer and asked for her help with protecting the stone, Minerva was delighted. Until Severus was invited along, and Hagrid and all of a sudden it was a staff mission and not a Dumbledore one. She felt foolish, thinking that he might have needed her and her alone. 

To her thorough disappointment, it was not Albus knocking at her door but instead, Severus, whose eyes were so black with rage he looked as he if were possessed. 

"Is he here?" Severus growled, pushing past her. 

"Oh please! Do come in!" Minerva called after him sarcastically. She slammed the door and marched back into the sitting room. "What is wrong with you?" She barked at him. 

"Is he here, Poppy?" Severus growled again, his eyes roaming the room. 

"Yes, I'm hiding him beneath my skirts," Poppy droned. "Can you see him? No? Well, he isn't here then, is he?"

Severus snorted at her before he turned to Minerva. "I thought-" 

"Well you thought wrong, didn't you? Why, on God's Earth, would Albus ever come here? I don't believe he's been in these rooms since - since-" but she couldn't finish her sentence, because it ended with 'Eleanor's funeral,' and even eleven years later, Minerva found it very difficult to even mention. "What's got you all riled up?" 

"What do you think?" Severus hissed. "That bloody fiasco in the Great Hall! Albus was so damned concerned to greet Potter that he forgot to realise that the bloody, stupid, stupid hat could have given the game away!" He roared. 

"The game?" Minerva quipped, unperturbed by Severus's outburst. "Is this a game to you, Severus?" 

"No. A dreadful choice of words," Severus replied curtly. "Dumbledore should have known that the hat would recognise the girl. He should have been prepared for it. Didn't you hear: 'Granger? Odd?' 'A hint of Slytherin,' 'Just like Elea-'" 

"I was there, wasn't I?" Minerva barked. "Of course I heard." 

"Albus should have realised that this could happen, but he was so pre-occupied with the mighty Potter coming to Hogwarts that he didn't bother to think about-" 

"I don't think that's fair!" Minerva cried. "He was just as concerned as you were when the hat started talking, mentioning..." 

"Of course, you will defend him!" Severus said. "Not only was Granger's identity almost revealed but now, because of the damn hatstall, it's drawn attention to her!" 

"And what should we have done instead?" Minerva retorted. "Pulled her aside and asked her what house she fancied? Singled her out to be different? We're damn lucky she wasn't sorted into Slytherin! How would that have looked? The first ever 'muggle-born' to be sorted into the muggle-born hating house?" 

"I honestly think that Albus thought the hat wouldn't recognise Hermione's...origins," Poppy said softly. Both Minerva and Severus raised their brows as Poppy defended Albus. "He wouldn't put Hermione in danger, even for the sake of Harry Potter. He just wouldn't." 

"Wouldn't he?" Severus hissed, before he turned his back on the women and stormed from the room, his footsteps pounding as he did. 

Minerva bit her lip. She couldn't shake the feeling that Severus was partly right. 


	2. George Remembers

"Have you seen this?" Molly Weasley shoved a hastily written letter into Arthur's eye-line as he ate his dinner. She held it there for him as he quickly scanned its contents. 

"Ron's friendly with... Harry Potter!" Arthur exclaimed excitedly. "Do you think he could ask Harry just how Muggles-" 

"Not that part!" Molly cried irritably. "This, Arthur! This!" And she pointed to three lines scribbled at the bottom of the parchment. 

"A troll?" He smiled proudly. "Ron took on a troll and won? Wow! Molly, I didn't expect-" 

"You can be so infuriating sometimes!" Molly shrieked. "Don't worry about it, Arthur. I will spell it out for you later." She indicated her head towards Ginny, who sat at the empty table pushing her food around her plate. 

Ginny, however, who had not been listening but in a sulky day-dream, suddenly snapped back to life when she heard the words 'Ron' and 'troll'. "What has Ron done with a troll, Mum?" She asked excitedly. 

"Nothing, dear. Finish your-" 

"Dad?" 

"Well, he seems to have-" Arthur began but stopped when Molly shot him an icy glare. "Nothing, nothing. Ron hasn't done anything." 

Ginny shoved her plate away and jumped to her feet. "I hate it here. It's so _boring_. Everyone is off at Hogwarts and I'm stuck here-" 

"I'm not at Hogwarts," Molly quipped. "Nor is your father." 

Ginny looked them both up and down, her brown eyes narrowed. "Exactly," she said sadly and stormed upstairs. 

It was the first bit of noise in the house for two months, ever since the school term had started. Now that Ron had started attending Hogwarts, along with his three elder brothers, and Bill and Charlie were living in other countries, the Burrow just seemed so quiet. Gone were the days when Molly spent her time trying to be one step ahead of her numerous children. Gone were the days when the walls rung with the sounds of shouting and arguing and reprimanding. Peace had descended on the Burrow but neither Arthur nor Molly were completely comfortable with it. 

With Ginny taking herself off to bed, Arthur went to have a bath as Molly cleared away the dinner things. Even that hardly took any time anymore; there were only three of them, after all. Never had Molly been more grateful that she and Arthur had such a big family; she just couldn't understand how other people filled their time. And, as she had learned, too much time allowed the mind to go wandering into the dark places that Molly was desperate to avoid. 

Once everything was cleared away, Molly bustled into the sitting room, lit a fire and took a seat on the low sofa. Setting her wand down on the side table, she took out the note that was troubling her and, for at least the fiftieth time that day, read it once more. Each time, her heart began to jitter nervously and she was chewing her bottom lip when Arthur came downstairs, her red brow furrowed. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't catch on," Arthur said quietly, taking a seat next to her. "I got excited. It's not very often you hear that your eleven-year-old son has won against a fully grown troll! And Harry Potter! Fancy being able to meet him-" 

"I have met him, Arthur and he's just like any boy," Molly said quickly. "No fangs. No wings. Though, terribly thin if you ask me. I'm going to make sure to send him something this Christmas..." 

"So what is it about the note that's bothering you?" 

"This,' and Molly read aloud: " The troll thing wasn't our fault, of course. It was Hermione Granger's. She's a girl in Gryffindor. She's a bit of a know it all but, we couldn't just let her get killed by a troll, could we? She's really clever, so I suppose she can be a know-it-all? It took her ages to be sorted. Percy told me that it was the first hatstall since MgGonagall was a student. Bit weird.'" 

"I don't understand?" 

"You don't think it's odd that a girl called Hermione happens to be the first hatstall since Aunt Minerva. She also happens to be very clever..." Molly trailed off, looking expectantly at her husband as she waited for him to catch on. 

"It's just a coincidence, Molly," Arthur smiled. "Hermione is a common name-" 

"How many people do you know called Hermione?" Molly retorted. "Who also happen to be of Hogwarts age? No, I remember when Eleanor was pregnant; she had two girls names and a boys name. I can't remember the boys name-" 

"Albus," Arthur said quietly. "She told me Albus. Albie." 

"Oh, well, I'm surprised you can remember that," Molly commented, her affection for Arthur soaring. "When the baby was born Eleanor wanted to call her Arianna. But when Minerva told Albus he lost his temper and said told them both no, any other name. So Severus said he would choose Hermione. I'll never forget it because Minerva looked as if he were speaking another language and Albus looked strangely relieved." 

"Oh, right." 

"It has to be her, Arthur. Not only has Ron befriended poor Harry Potter, he's also friends with...her," Molly whispered. 

Arthur furrowed his brows thoughtfully. "I don't understand the issue though. Ron wasn't even born when Eleanor died. He's never met Minerva - well, in the family sense anyway - so what is wrong with him being friends with her?" 

"George will remember," Molly said quietly, her voice thick. "George was obsessed with that baby when she was born, don't you remember? 'Mione this, Mione that'. For months after Eleanor died and the baby was taken away, George asked after her. Don't you remember, Arthur? And when George went to Hogwarts, he pulled us aside on the platform and asked if 'Aunt Minerva knew where Hermione was taken?'" 

Arthur paled slightly and his green eyes narrowed. "Yes," he replied slowly. "I remember." He rubbed his chin. "I remember because it was so...odd. He and Fred, even then were such, terrors," and here he smiled affectionately, "we never expected either of them to fall so desperately in love with a baby." 

Molly smiled sadly. It had indeed been a great shock to them all, to watch as George gingerly crept over to the basinette in which Hermione slept. When Molly had caught him doing it out of the corner of her eyes, her heart leapt to her throat in fear that he was going to play one of his childish jokes on the baby but inside he just stood, ever so still, over Hermione and stared, his eyes great orbs. From that moment on, whenever Eleanor visited with the baby, George was delighted. He liked to sit next to whoever happened to be holding the baby at the time. He would ramble at the baby, telling her all of the tricks and silly things he was going to teach her so that she could become a part of his and Fred's gang. He'd barely been eighteen months old when Eleanor died and Molly had been shocked that ten years later, when he asked what happened to Hermione; shocked that he could remember her. 

"Ah," Arthur said, regretfully. "This is a complication. And Minerva isn't going to like it when you tell her." 

"Me?" Molly cried. "Not 'we,' Arthur?"

"She's you're aunt," Arthur fidgeted nervously. "I- I think it would be better, yes, better, coming from you." 

Molly frowned. They both knew that he was lying- he was simply still nervous around his old Professor and sort-of mother-in-law. Sometimes, it was quite comical but this evening, it was more than a little irritating. 

"No, I think we should both," Molly muttered rising from her seat and summoning parchment, ink and quill as she made her way into the kitchen. Leaning over the table, she quickly scribbled a note and whistled for Erroll. He came bundling in the kitchen window, causing a racket as usual. "Here," she said to the owl impatiently. "I need you to get to Aunt Minerva, quick, you understand?" 

Erroll blinked nonchalantly at her and was off, soaring unsteadily across the garden and neighbouring hills. 

"Now, all we have to do it wait for Aunt Minerva," Molly smiled weakly at Arthur. 

Surprisingly, they didn't have to wait long. It seemed that for once, Erroll was as good as his word and found Minerva quickly, who arrived at the Burrow not a couple of hours later. She arrived still dressed in her teaching robes but with her dark hair unfastening and neatly plaited to one side, in which, perched her glasses. She had a look of concern and consternation spread across her thin face and her green eyes flickered as Molly cooly welcomed her and lead her into the sitting room. 

"I am surprised," Minerva said. "Truth be told, Erroll frightened the bloody life out of me, clipping at my window at this time of night. What in God's name - Good evening, Arthur - is going on? Judging by the fact that Ginny is obviously tucked up in bed and Arthur can barely keep his eyes open, is isn't an immediate source of danger for which I am called?" She arched a brow and Arthur, who had been struggling to keep himself away, suddenly stirred into life. 

"Sorry, Minerva, you see, there's - - complication. We didn't, well, we cannot confirm..." he mumbled, blustering and fidgeting as he did. His face turned bright red. 

"Spit it out, Arthur," Minerva said. 

"Oh!" Molly cried irritably, waving a hand as the tea tray followed her into the room. "I'll just do it." Molly took a seat facing Minerva and sighed. "Auntie... Ron wrote to us, about his first Halloween at Hogwarts-" 

"If you believe that a knocked-out Mountain Troll is emergency enough to call me here-" Minerva's voice was high, dangerous. 

"No, no," Molly shook her head. "He said that he and Harry fought the troll?" 

"Yes, that is correct," Minerva tapped her wand against her leg impatiently. 

"And he mentioned a girl... Hermione Granger," Molly said the name tentatively. 

"Indeed," Minerva said cooly but it was obvious that the mention of the name made her uncomfortable, for she shifted ever so slightly in her seat and straightened her back, drawing herself up, tall and forbidding, as she did when she was angry - or close to being cornered. 

"Minerva," Molly whispered sadly. "Auntie... It's a rather unusual name. And we, Arthur and I, we think..." 

"You think what, exactly?" Minerva's green eyes flashed. "What is you think? Spit it out." 

"Is she Eleanor's Hermione?" 

Minerva drew a sharp breath and Molly could almost see her heart banging heavily in her chest. She sat still, erect, her mouth slowing pursing together as Molly and Arthur waited, slightly wincing, for the confirmation. A large array of emotions flittered across Minerva's face; pride, joy, sadness, bitterness, fear... resolution. 

"Yes," Minerva finally said. "Yes. Eleanor's Hermione..." she coughed and when she spoke again, her voice was clearer, though not completely smooth. "It's her. She has been sorted into my house and before you ask, no, she doesn't know anything. When we realised that she would be arriving at Hogwarts - and that is a story for another time - Severus decided that she should be kept in ignorance. For her safety." 

"Of course," Arthur muttered. 

"So, now you know. But I must say - this hardly warrants calling me here during term. It's not emergency..." 

"It could be," Molly said. "The thing is, Arthur and I were discussing it and what with her being friends with, Ron-" 

"Ron doesn't know me in that way," Minerva said matter-of-factly. "So there is no way that he could-" 

"Not Ron," Arthur said. "George may be a problem, however." 

Minerva furrowed her brow but it soon softened and her mouth opened a little. "Ah. Yes. George. He was quite smitten with her. And Molly tells me he remembered her, when he first came to Hogwarts two years ago." Her voice was slow, thoughtful. "Do you think he would-" 

"The twins are not known for their tact, are they?" Arthur said, half-despondent, half-proud. 

"No," both Minerva and Molly said quietly. 

Molly watched her aunt intently, wondering if her face would reveal any of her obvious deep thought. Truth-be-told, now that Molly had said what she wanted to say, she wasn't quite sure what should be done with the information. Should they trust that George would not put two and two together? But then, both Fred and George might have been wind-ups but they were not stupid. In fact, Molly would wager that they had more smarts about them than even Percy, who only ever strived for excellence. Molly wasn't sure that they could wholly trust that George would no realise, if he hadn't already. if he were to work it out, could they trust him to keep it to himself, even from Fred? Should he be expected too? 

"Why is everything always so complicated?" Molly muttered irritably to herself. 

Unexpectedly, Minerva reached over and squeezed Molly's hand gently. "I am afraid that is my fault. And Albus's. It seems that we are destined to be complicated people and we foolishly drew people in our circle, our family and in doing so, created complication for them." 

"I didn't mean-" 

Minerva smiled knowingly. "You did. And that's fine. Sometimes even the best intentions are not always thought out as they should be." 

Molly knew that she was referring to her guardianship of Molly. She'd said it before, when Eleanor and William were killed and Molly feared for her family's life. Feared that they were the next targets. But if Minerva and Poppy hadn't each taken her into their family's, Molly might never have known what it was like to grow up without the love of a mother, of a parent. Molly's memories of her father, Eli Prewett were hazy; she couldn't remember specifics but she could remember how he made her feel. She always felt like an unwanted piece of furniture, a spare part that wasn't properly cared for. Her father hadn't been cruel to her; not in the physical sense; but he'd simply ignored her. She was taken into the care of the two Dumbledore family's at around four years old and with them, with her two delightful cousins, she felt nothing but love and companionship and laughter and warmth. For Molly, that was worth the complications she grumbled about now, for Minerva and Poppy had taught her what a family was and that was what made her the mother she was. 

"I think it's best that you discuss this with Albus and Severus," Arthur said. "See what they think." 

"Very well," Minerva sighed. "You're right of course." 

"But you must do it," Molly warned. "I know you avoid talking to Uncle Albus sometimes but you must...try." 

Minerva smiled and shook her head. "Yes, mother," she smiled wryly. 


	3. Memories And Bloodlines

The sun was rising across the Black Lake, making the water sparkle and glitter before Minerva's tired, heavy eyes. It was quite mesmerising, watching the water quiet and still beneath a sky of faint navy, pale blue, orange, pink and red. The sun dazzled yellow, bright and welcoming and she felt its warm ray across her thin face. She wished it could warm more than flesh and bone. She wished the morning sun could warm the ice buried in her soul, beneath the surface she so carefully maintained. With her arms crossed around her narrow body and her eyes closed, she felt as if she hadn't been warm in years...decades. 

As she opened her eyes, she noticed the soft rays bouncing off the great white tomb to the right of her and she sighed. It was calling to her, catching her attention; didn't it know that she tried so very hard to ignore it? To pretend that it didn't exist? She tried to turn from it, as did so often, but its arms reached out to her and tugged incessantly until she could do nothing but obey and slowly wander across the grass to it. 

It didn't seem so menacing, bathed in sunlight. In fact, it glowed, like an ethereal light of hope against the black water of the lake and for a moment, Minerva could almost forget that it stood as a beacon of her misery. It was, of course, not built with that intention. No, indeed, it had been designed and crafted to be a shelter for the poor should within; an in-between home for those resting inside until the call for the rest of the destined souls came. It was particularly beautiful; soft and yet strong, proud and yet graceful. It was fitting for its purpose but, Minerva wished its purpose did not exist. 

With one arm still wrapped around herself, Minerva slowly touched the engraved plaque, tracing the looping letters longingly. 'Eleanor Dumbledore Snape.' Over and over she traced, eyes focused on each letter. "I'm sorry that I don't come very often," she whispered. "I'm sorry I leave you alone so much. It's still so heard for me to accept... you not being here, with me. I wish I could have said good-bye to you, my darling. If you had to go, if there was no other way, I wish I had been able to tell you... Did you know that you were loved? Did you know that 'love' is not strong enough a word? Oh Eleanor," her voice cracked, her throat tightened. "Was your last thought of the girl you left behind? The wondrous, magical daughter we can only love from afar? Have we let you down? She's here, at the castle... But I suppose you know that. You always knew everything," Minerva smiled. "She's so close to us now and yet... We have to protect her, don't we? For you. We must do as you would have done. I never got the chance to die for you but I'll die for her. I do not doubt that that is my path now. Your father - Well, your father says that we are not yet at the end. More is coming and of course, I believe him. I'd be a fool not too. I wish that you could speak to me and tell me what I should do about what happened at Molly's. I want to keep it to myself, to just bury it within but... that isn't right, is it? Oh, Eleanor," Minerva half-sighed, "Listen to me, so unsure of myself! I'm not used to not being able to make up my mind. So proud and determined! But this is Hermione... my last link to you, sweetheart. I cannot forget the joy she brought with her, do you remember?" 

Minerva closed her eyes and sank to her knees, her hand trailing down the smooth marble as she did. She laid her head on the cold steps, her mind spinning. She knew that she should go to Albus and Severus immediately but a part of her was frightened too. She knew that there was a chance that Severus would decide that Hermione should be expelled and thrown out of the Wizarding world; that their family, their past was known by too many people. She was sure that George was not a risk. Even if he did realise who Hermione was, Minerva trusted him completely. Oh, he may act the fool but he was a decent, kind boy - he was Molly's son. He was family. But he was not Severus's family and that was the problem. As far as he was concerned, his only family was Hermione now. Minerva knew that he did not regard Albus and she as family, not completely and any extension of them was certainly not on his radar. His whole purpose, his mind, was completely fixed on Hermione and Hermione alone, for his was his. And Eleanor's. That was all that mattered to him. Minerva was ready to fight with him on that argument. 

But was Albus? 

She did not know what stance Albus would take and that was her problem. She'd been so sure that he would try and persuade Severus to her way of thinking, that day when she first met Hermione in her home but she had been wrong. She supposed that she shouldn't really count on Albus's unwavering support; it may have been so when they were together but now, they were painfully their own person and he had no need to offer his support, she was strong enough after all. Normally, she would count it as a compliment - Albus only evert came to the aid of those who really needed it, believing instead that each individual could find the strength within themselves, at least, that was what Minerva had discovered about him over the years. Albus very rarely treated her as if she was a liability, a weak sort of person that couldn't find their own way out of a cardboard box but when Minerva was quite passionate, or determined, about something, she had been able to rely on the fact that he would be there, ready to back her up. 

Privilege lost, Minerva knew that if Albus did not agree with Minerva on this - or worse, fully sided with Severus - Minerva would be arguing quite alone. She thought about what Molly said the night before, about everything being so complicated all of the time and Minerva sighed; everything really was so very complicated and there seemed to be no let up. How could she have known, all those years ago when her seventeen-year-old heart fell for Albus Dumbledore just what journey she was embarking on? How could she have realised just how many people would be wrapped up in their orbit? From two people grew a entangled web of lives; seemingly separate and yet all entwined, forever destined to be connect together. Albus didn't always see it that way - he struggled to realise that he was not one, lone man. Even when Minerva was a young woman and new wife, it had taken Albus a lot of time to realise that just as other people relied on him, he could rely on the people in his life; Minerva, Poppy but not, perhaps, Minerva thought with a slight smile, Aberforth. They had been an odd sort of family, even Minerva could admit that, but a family they had been; a fighting, sparring, loving, laughing, resenting, defending...beloved family. 

Minerva sighed. Since Eleanor's death Minerva felt as if she didn't belong anywhere. She tore herself away from the Weasley's just as harshly as Albus tore himself from her. Only Poppy remained, Poppy and Aberforth - the 'other Dumbledore's,' as Minerva would affectionately call them, just as they had once referred to Albus and she using that term. Despite Poppy however, Minerva still felt quite alone. It felt as if she no longer warranted calling herself a 'Dumbledore' and was therefore not entitled to intrude upon Poppy and Aberforth's quiet, sad peace. Neither of them had ever said or done anything to make her feel that way but grief was a great divider and Minerva couldn't help but feel a nuisance; they had, after all, lost their child at the very same time as she and they, even ten years later, struggled to carry out and get through, their days. They did not need her clinging to their hems in a desperate attempt to feel that precious feeling of familiarity, of warmth...of love. 

Now, the great weight of moments not cherished enough sat on Minerva's chest and she placed her head on her arm and, lying next to Eleanor just for a few moments, began to mumble the sweet tune Minerva would mumble softly to Eleanor as she tried to get her to sleep. It was a tune that Minerva's own father would sing, absentmindedly throughout the house, a tune which made Minerva's heart glow and break all at once. 

_'Give me the right, to love you all the while...'_

"Minerva? Are you quite alright?" Came a quiet voice from above her. 

Minerva's eyes snapped open and her mouth clamped shut. Stiffly, she lifted her head and rose to her feet, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks. "I didn't realise you came here," Minerva snapped. "Then again, I never come here so how would I know if you do?" 

Albus, his grey brows furrowed with concern, stood in dark shimmering robes, staring at her, grimacing slightly. "I come here often, actually," he said. "To wander. To...think. I was surprised to find a figure on the steps as I approached. Even more surprised when, as I drew closer, I realised that it was you. I thought you were hurt, for a moment, until I saw your mouth moving, ever-so-slightly." 

"I'm sorry," Minerva muttered. "I wouldn't have come if I'd known you would be here. I- I had a bad night and I couldn't think of anywhere else to go." 

"I am aware of your sudden flight from the castle last night," Albus said pensively. 

Minerva laughed bitterly. "Of course you are. You are aware of everything." 

"Indeed," Albus did not bite. "What called you away? Is that what has disturbed your night and prevented you from sleep?" 

Minerva opened her mouth but didn't answer for a moment. She glanced to her side and saw the name once again. Her heart leapt to her throat as she considered her choice; to tell Albus and Severus and risk Hermione being taken from her again, or, to remain silent and hope that nothing should happen to Hermione because Minerva kept her mouth shut. Even as the thought crossed her mind, Minerva knew that she couldn't do that. To take that choice would be to take the selfish choice, to betray Eleanor - what if something happened to Hermione and Minerva could have prevented it? No, she would never be able to live with herself. 

Sighing deeply and hanging her head, Minerva said, "We had better go and find, Severus." 

* 

As if the Severus's dungeon office was not cold enough, the air between Albus and he was colder still. Minerva did not know whether Severus had managed to fight Albus the night of the sorting but she could tell that Severus was still annoyed with Albus. More than annoyed, in fact. He barely rose from his chair behind the desk when she and Albus entered and barely nodded his greeting at Albus before his black eyes narrowed and he lowered his head, resuming his task. Albus glided across the room and took a seat, seemingly un-phased but Minerva surveyed him, taking her own seat next to him, and noticed that his blue eyes glittered with remorse. 

"Headmaster, Minerva," Snape said acidly. "What brings you here so early? It is Saturday, you know." 

"Well, you're awake so no harm done, is there?" Minerva quipped impatiently. She was nervous and desperate to keep that from Severus. Sarcasm and wit was all she had to prevent him from doing so. 

"I must admit that I do not know why I find myself here at this hour," Albus said pleasantly. "It is Minerva who informed me that we should find you." 

Severus rolled his head back and sighed deeply. "I thought I'd had the last word on that," he snarled. "For God sake, Minerva, just - _drop_ \- it." 

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him and sneered, "Actually, I haven't come to talk about that. Well...Not exactly." 

Severus scoffed. "Then what have you come for? Because the three of us usually avoid each other like the plague. I rather like it." 

"And whose fault is that?" Minerva cried defensively. "We never pushed you out, Severus. We never... When Eleanor died you just broke away from us. You were still our daughter's husband, even if she was gone." 

"And what did I pull away from? You were hardly the softest, kindest in-laws-" 

"We were not unkind," Minerva interrupted quietly, guilt sweeping through her. It was true that she might not have been the most welcoming mother-in-law in the world; and Albus hadn't been much better; but it was difficult to accept that her daughter had married her old Professor, who, coincidently, had also been a Death Eater at some point in his life. They might not have been welcoming but they were decent enough - or so Minerva thought. But then... she couldn't be sure just how Albus treated Severus when he married Eleanor for Minerva wasn't with him then. In fact, hadn't Albus broke from her the day after it was revealed that Severus and Eleanor were in a relationship, in her last year at Hogwarts? So, really, Minerva had no idea what kind of a father-in-law had been and could only look upon herself and think back to her actions, her attitude. And it wasn't always the greatest. 

Albus, whose eyes always darted uncomfortably whenever he and Minerva were regarded as a couple, a 'we', coughed. "We will not be here for long, Severus. Minerva will say what she has to say and then I need to live. Prior appointment," he added quietly. 

Severus shrugged and sat back, his dark eyes fixed on Minerva. 

"I went to the Burrow last night," she said. "Molly called for me. I haven't been there for years...," the time she'd spent at the Burrow when she's eventually left Hogwarts flashed in her mind but she quickly moved on. "There is a problem. With Hermione. She has struck up a friendship with Ron and Molly is worried about it. And before you both interject and tell me that Ron would have no knowledge of her - I know. I know. But Ron, apparently is not our problem-" 

"George," Severus muttered. He shook his head. "Why didn't I consider..." 

"How do you know that?" Minerva questioned, brow raised. 

"Minerva, you aren't the only one with memories," Severus replied. "I remember when Hermione was born - we spent a lot of time at the Burrow. Eleanor said it was because Molly was helping her but I think... They were terrifying times. She knew there was always a chance that we would not all be together by the end of it and she wanted Hermione to be surrounded by... Well, she wasn't, in the end, was she?" His voice grew thick and his skin even paler but he shrugged and continued, "Anyway. I recall George Weasley - he was devoted to the baby. Eleanor thought it was so extraordinary..." 

As always, Minerva was shocked when Severus spoke about Eleanor. His harsh, dark features became soft and his voice quiet, smooth. The man was always bitter, always marching around and sneering sarcastically but when he spoke about his wife, he became a different man. Minerva had witnessed the change a few times but still, she could not get used to it. 

"Has he mentioned anything to Molly?" Albus asked, his voice unsteady. 

"No. But she's concerned that he may-" 

"Say something to Hermione. Should he realise." 

"Yes," Minerva nodded tersely. 

"I trust Mr Weasley not to do that," Severus declared. Minerva's mouth fell open. "You needn't look so surprised. Molly Weasley was my wife's greatest friend. What a dishonour I would do my wife if I did not trust her choice of friendship. Or her friend's young son. Even if he can be... an idiot." 

Minerva should have been relieved. This was the scenario she had wanted but hardly dared to think would happen - Severus believe in a young boy? A young boy who, along with his twin, were proving to be the headaches of every professor in the school? Yes, relieved she should have been but instead, she found herself angry. She felt the temper inside her boil and rising and she could feel Albus looking at her as her green eyes pierced through Severus. 

"I thought you would be pleased, Minerva," Severus goaded, his top lip curling ever so slightly. 

She knew that the outburst would only cause more issues between them but, as always when her temper flared, Minerva couldn't care about the repercussions and instead, blew up. "Are you telling me that you trust a boy, a silly, though sweet, boy to keep her safe more than us? Albus and I? When we would give our lives-" 

"I wish," Severus said slowly. "That you would stop speaking for Albus, Minerva, when we all know that you have no idea what is going on his head." 

Minerva bit. It was the bait that Severus always dangled and she bit. 

She jumped from her seat, reaching into her robes and drawing her wand. He knew exactly how to play her; she was weakest when it came to Albus. When anybody pointed out that he'd left her, that she was a pathetic creature who pined for a man who absolutely did not want her. It both embarrassed her and infuriated her that Severus knew that; he had been there through the whole thing, from the minute Albus left to now. When Eleanor had been forced to visit her mother nearly everyday to drag her out of bed and back into life before she went to beg her father to see sense and take her back. Severus had put up with that for the first years of his marriage and watched as Minerva took up her daughter's time. He knew how sensitive Minerva was to it, how weak she was and he could always be counted upon to bring it up. 

"Whether or not we are together, Albus and I are, and always will be, Eleanor's parents," Minerva hissed menacingly. "Therefore, 'We'. Do you see, Severus?" 

"But not when it comes to Hermione," Severus retorted. "There is only me. And you. And Albus. No 'we'." 

Yellow sparks flew from Minerva's wand, barely missing Severus's head and Albus finally stirred, jumping up and placing a hand on Minerva's wand arm. "Minerva, perhaps you should-" 

"Do you want me to duel you, too, Dumbledore?" Minerva snarled. "Because I'll do it!" 

His grasp of her arm grew tighter. Her skin tingled beneath his touch. "I don't doubt it, my dear but, remember who Severus is-" 

"Oh, I know!" Minerva barked, not faltering. "Severus is an ex-Death Eater who attempts to tell me how I should protect my own-" 

"And we all know how you protect your own, don't we, Minerva!" Severus said coldly. "Eleanor is the perfect example-" 

"That is enough!" Albus bellowed, his voice bouncing off of the walls, his face thunderous. "Enough. None of us will be able to do anything for Hermione if we spend the rest of our lives at each other's throats." 

Severus lowered his head, seemingly accepting Albus's order but Minerva, who was shaking she was so angry, spat, "I couldn't protect my own, _Snape_ , because she was betrayed within. It is not I who lead Riddle to her. I was not his servant-" 

Severus stood up and banged his fist on the desk as he did. "Oh, her death had nothing to do with me or my name, Minerva Dumbledore! You and Albus signed her death warrant from the moment you were selfish enough to bring a child into the world! What did you expect? The Dark Lord to let Dumbledore's bloodline to live in peace? You're an idiot, woman. You killed Eleanor, with your name and your foolish, selfish choices. Not I." 


	4. Gifts of Gold, Flame and Feather

Elation made Hermione's footsteps light as she marched along the corridor of the Hogwarts Express and found an empty compartment. She took a seat by the window and gently placed her bag on the seat next to her - it was filled new books she had received for Christmas and she was trying to be careful to make sure that they did not get marked or dented. She had already started reading three of them and they were proving most interesting - she hoped to finish one of the, ' _The Power and Promise of Ancient Magic,'_ by the time the train reached Hogwarts. 

It was a very different experience boarding the scarlet train this time compared to at the start of term. Back then, everything had been so exciting and fresh and new but at the same time nerve-wracking and terrifying. She was scared that, just like with Primary school, she wouldn't make friends and she wasn't sure if she would even get sorted into a house and instead be told 'sorry, we've got it wrong, you really are a muggle and not a witch at all.' No, this time she was just excited and eager to get to Hogwarts again; to see the castle, to see her friends, Harry and Ron and find out if they had discovered anything new to do with the Philosopher's Stone. 

At this thought, her brow furrowed. She had spent a lot of time thinking about Nicolas Flamel and the stone, which Harry was positive Professor Snape was after. Before she left for the holidays, she had almost been convinced that Harry was right but since then, she definitely wasn't as sure as Harry seemed to be. She detested Snape almost as much as Harry did; the potions professor was cruel, callous and a down-right bully; but she just couldn't make it fit. Hadn't Hagrid said that Professor Dumbledore had asked Snape for his help protecting the stone? The headmaster wouldn't have done that if he thought, even for a moment, that Snape would try and take it. But who...

The train hissed and smoked before announcing its departure. As it rolled slowly from the platform, Hermione sank back in her seat, pulled out her precious book and began reading, careful not to crack the spine. She was just finishing a very interesting chapter when, about twenty minutes into the journey, she was disturbed by Neville Longbottom, who quietly, sheepishly slipped into the compartment, gave a sigh of relief and then jumped when he noticed Hermione glaring at him. 

"I'm sorry, Hermione," his round face turned red. "I didn't see you... Malfoy and Parkinson... Can I stay in here? I'll be quiet, I promise." 

Hermione, who felt sorry for him, smiled kindly. "Don't worry, Neville. Please, stay. Did you have a nice Christmas?" 

Grinning appreciatively, Neville settled in the seat opposite her. "It was okay, thanks. Gran got me a new scarf, because I'd lost mine, some Herbology books and a mini-greenhouse." 

"A mini-greenhouse?" Hermione leaned forward, interested. 

"Yeah, look," Neville reached in his bag and pulled something out. It was, indeed, a miniature greenhouse, complete with glass walls and ceiling. It was the size of piece of muggle paper and filled with rows of tiny multi-coloured plants in various pots. "Isn't it cool?" 

"Yes," Hermione nodded, her eyes wide. "It really is. Wow, Neville! Is Herbology your favourite subject?" 

"I think so. It's the only one I seem to be able to - to manage," he admitted quietly. "Potions is just a nightmare and Transfiguration... well, Professor McGonagall is so clever, I get so scared." 

"All of the teachers are clever, I expect," Hermione said. 

"Yeah, they are but not like McGonagall. My gran told me all about her before I came," Neville's eyes grew wide in wonder. "Gran told me that the Professor is the most powerful witch or wizard to be born since Dumbledore. She said that You-Know-Who was almost as wary of her powers as he was Dumbledore's. Have you heard of a wizard call Grindlewald?" 

"Yes, I read about him," Hermione said, picturing the passage in a book she couldn't recall. "He was bad too. Professor Dumbledore duelled and captured him." 

"Gran says that Professor McGonagall helped him. She went with him and together they caught him." 

"Wow," Hermione mouthed, picturing the stern-faced, steely eyed Professor McGonagall. "I mean, she's an animagus so I knew she was powerful but doing that! Helping to save the world..." 

Since being sorted in Gryffindor, Hermione found it easy to look up to her head of house but now, with what Neville had just told her, Hermione desperately wanted to match up to her. She was so articulate, snappy and witty and with such power and knowledge to boot! Hermione couldn't imagine having that kind of ability, that expanse of knowledge and she just hoped that one day, she could be just like her Professor.

"Gran said that a lot of people thought that she was wasted at Hogwarts, like they do Professor Dumbledore," Neville continued. "But apparently, she never wanted anything but to teach. Gran mentioned something about... 'a devastating turn of events,'" Neville quoted. "So, I think she's had a bit of a sad life."

Hermione searched her mind for any image of Professor McGonagall and tried to read her face - was the sadness evident? What had happened to her? Hermione didn't know why, but she felt very sorry for her - and desperate to find out everything she could about Minerva McGonagall.

*

That evening, after the welcome-back feast and after Harry and Ron told her that they hadn't really found anything of any use (expect of course, Harry's acquiring an invisibility cloak), Hermione bid them goodnight and made her way to the dormitory. She still wasn't quite used to sharing a room with four other girls but by the time Hermione reached her bed, the rest of the girls were asleep. 

Hermione changed, brushed her teeth and was exhausted by the time she finally pulled back the covers to climb into bed but something stopped her. Sitting on her pillow was a small, square package, neatly wrapped in blue paper with twinkling stars on it and tied with a navy bow. Intrigued, Hermione picked it up and upon noticing that it didn't sit with a note, she searched the immediate area, just in case it had fallen. There wasn't one. She wasn't sure if she should open it (after all, she had no idea who it was from) but she's already done the very silly thing of touching it anyway and so she carefully peeled open the wrapper. 

It was a dark green jewellery box, as plain as any other Hermione had seen in her mother's room, but inside, sat a most peculiar necklace. It was a thin, gold chain, delicate and gleaming and on it sat a dainty, but breathtaking pendant. It, again, was gold, shaped like a flame and hoovering above the golden flames were two swaying feathers, one of gold and orange and, oddly, a tiny gold thistle. Hermione pulled it from the box and lay the pendant carefully on her palm, mesmerised by the flickering flames and the feathers as they moved. She'd never seen a moving piece of jewellery before and thought it quite marvellous. 

Who on earth would give Hermione such a beautiful gift? She couldn't think that Harry or Ron would. They were sweet but, they were just boys - why would they buy her jewellery? No, it couldn't be them. It had to be her parents; perhaps they wrote to the school and asked one of the professors to find something that would suit Hermione, something that would make her feel like a real, credible part of the Wizarding world. That had to be right. 

Mostly convinced, Hermione slipped the necklace on and, feeling so very grateful and joyful, fell asleep. 

The next morning, she forgot about the necklace as she dressed for the first day of term and helped Harry and Ron gather everything they would need. 

"You know," Hermione barked as they rushed to Transfiguration, "You should really have prepared yourselves last night. If we are late because of you two, I'll be SO annoyed..."

Luckily, they were just in time and found seats at the front of the class. Seeing Professor McGongall for the first time since Neville had spoken about her, Hermione felt strange. She watched the woman's every movement and expression, searching for evidence of the devastation Neville had mentioned and despite concentrating so hard that she almost couldn't hear the professor as she explained the lesson, Hermione couldn't see anything strange or evidently sad. 

Until Hermione approached the professor's desk to hand in her homework at the end of the lesson. She smiled wanly at Professor McGonagall as she handed over the thick scroll of parchment. McGonagall said nothing, until Hermione turned to leave and McGonagall suddenly cried: "Granger! What's that?" She indicated to the necklace around Hermione's neck. 

"Oh, I-My," Hermione spluttered, instinctively reaching up to play with the chain. "A Christmas present, Professor. I think. It was on my bed when I came back-" 

"The rest of you can go! Stop dawdling, off you go!" Minerva barked. "Miss Granger, would you please come with me to see the Headmaster?" 

Hermione thought she might died of fright. She glanced frantically at Harry and Ron as she followed McGonagall and they just shrugged apologetically - there was no helping her now. 

The professor walked fast, her skirts swaying with each step and, though her usual pace was quick enough, Hermione had to scramble behind her to keep up. By the time they reached the end of a long corridor and found themselves facing a great stone gargoyle, Hermione was sweating beneath the weight of her school robes and the bad she had thrown across her shoulder. She was trying to catch her breath but Professor McGonagall distracted her by whispering between tight lips, causing the statue to move and a winding, stone staircase to appear. 

"Come along," Professor McGonagall said, though her tone was not unkind, prompting Hermione to glance up at her. The professor's expression was an odd mixture of absolute rage and melancholy. 

She lead the way up the stairs and into a small, lofty gallery-type room that was quite plain, save for a narrow window and a large, dark door. Hermione's heart beat painfully in her chest as McGonagall knocked and a voice from the other side came ringing out: 'Enter!' She was shuffled in by the professor and as Hermione stepped into the headmaster's office, she thought she might faint with fear. 

It was a soft, friendlier room that she'd imagined; a round room, stuffed with books and trinkets and portraits, warmed by a glowing fire. Had Hermione not been so terrified of expulsion, the decor might have put her at ease. Instead, she felt her limbs turn to stone and her eyes near-pop from their sockets as Professor Dumbledore first greeted McGonagall before he caught noticed Hermione, trying to be as small as she could be by the door, and furrowed his brows quizzically. 

"Miss Granger," he smiled kindly. "Surely you are not here because of some sort of misdemeanour-" 

"No, no," Professor McGonagall cut in and Hermione could have cried with relief. She wasn't in trouble! But just why had she been brought here? 

"Well, that is certainly a relief," his bright blue eyes danced. "Did you wish to see me about something?" 

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Professor McGonagall cut in. "No, Headmaster, I-" and she stumbled on her words, her eyes frantic as if she were struggling to come up with an explanation herself. As if she had acted without thought or consideration. "I just wanted you to know that Miss Granger is proving very gifted at Transfiguration," Minerva said weakly and Dumbledore raised in brows in surprise. "Herm- Miss Granger, why don't you show the headmaster?" 

Cheeks flushing, Hermione shyly approached Professor Dumbledore's desk. He was sitting forward, his bright eyes gazing her at thoughtfully. She drew her wand, murmured and the quill in his hand became a dream catcher. He said nothing. Professor McGonagall said nothing. Hermione glanced from one to the other; Dumbledore obviously quite mystified by the odd show and McGonagall wide-eyed, encouraging him into the same thought as her. 

It didn't seem to work, until, quite suddenly, his eyes narrowed softly and misted over. He swallowed hard and said, cooly, "That's a lovely necklace, Miss Granger." 

"I told - I told Professor McGonagall it was a Christmas present," she replied quietly. 

"Who from?" He asked gently. 

"There wasn't a note, I thought - it's magic you see," Hermione held it out from her neck, so that he might see it move. "So I thought my mum and dad must have asked somebody, to - to-" 

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Do you know, I think you are right. Do you not recall, Professor McGonagall? Mrs Granger's letter?" 

"What- I-" Dumbledore's voice roused her from a stupor and she nodded sharply. "Why, yes! Of course. I'm glad it was satisfactory." 

"It's beautiful," Hermione smiled gratefully. 

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "I'm glad you are proving to be such a talented witch, Miss Granger. You can run along now." 

"Thank-you," Hermione said and she rushed from the room, the door closing hastily behind her but not before she heard Professor McGonagall hiss: "Who does Severus think he is? What on earth possessed him to..." 


	5. Terrors of the Forest

It took Severus Snape several weeks to find out the reason for Minerva's obvious outrage. Since the start of the term, Minerva had been shooting him piercing looks, rolling her eyes at him in contempt and, more than once, she opened her mouth to speak to him but quickly shut it again, thanks to a brief look of admonishment from Albus. It was clear that Minerva was angry with Severus and to begin with, he simply thought that she was sulking at not having her way again. It was not until a first year potions lesson several weeks later, when Severus saw the necklace around Hermione's neck, that he finally realised what had flared Minerva's temper. He wasn't sure why it did so but he wasn't surprised - Minerva seemed to be perpetually angry. 

But, upon glimpsing the gold chain and dainty pendant, Severus could not have cared less what Minerva thought, or how she felt. He was completely and absolutely pleased that Hermione had decided to wear it. It had taken a lot for him to pluck up the courage to even open the tiny rosewood jewellery box where it had sat since Eleanor's death, let alone examine the beautiful pieces that she had once worn against her skin and he was pleased that the fear and sadness of the whole episode had been worth it. He wasn't sure where the idea had come from. Sitting before a dying fire on Christmas Eve, his mind had suddenly taken him back to the first, and only, Christmas he spent with his wife and daughter. In all of the memories; the smiles, the laughter, the embraces, the only absolutely clear thing had been the necklace of flame, feather and thistle which Eleanor wore everyday. In his minds-eye, Snape saw it glistening from her throat, he watched her play with it absent-mindedly as she gazed in awe at her child. In fact, he could not think of Eleanor without thinking of the necklace. It was a part of her and, on that horrific day when she was taken from him, Severus took it from her, because he needed something that meant the world to her, just as she did to him. 

Unable to escape the memories of Eleanor, the necklace and Christmas, he immediately thought of Hermione, enjoying her holiday with her family, and an overwhelming need to give her a piece of her mother filled him. He couldn't sit idly by and not give her something that belonged to her mother, her mother who had adored her so, who had loved her, who never imagined being parted from her, because even to imagine it was too painful. So, carefully and gingerly, Severus summoned the jewellery box and opened the lid. A soft melody played, a melody Eleanor called her mother's song, a melody that made his heart swell so painfully, he almost slammed it shut again. He could almost hear Eleanor singing it, slightly off key but enthusiastically, and it felt as if she was there, just in the other room and he would soon be able to go in and see her. The tune carried on and on, Eleanor's voice slowly filled the room - ' _Give me the right, to love you all the while_ ' - and through misty eyes, Severus managed to look at the trinkets placed so carefully on the green velvet inside; a pair of earrings that Albus and Minerva had gifted her when she completed her Hogwarts education, a muggle-style cameo broach Severus had surprised her with when she had spotted it in a shop in Brighton, her pearl and diamond engagement ring, her gold wedding band; and laid out with them all was the necklace he was looking for. 

He knew the tale of it by heart. He knew how important it had been to Eleanor, how cherished it was. "I'll never let this go," she explained as they lay in bed together. "This is all that I have left of my family. It's hard to understand I know but... Mother and Dad gave me this when I was seven. I couldn't believe that they were giving me such a grown up gift and I was delighted. It's all three of us, you see; the red phoenix feather for Daddy, the thistle for Mother and the orange feather between them is me. We Dumbledore's rise from the ashes - that's what Mother told me. Only, we stopped being Dumbledore's, didn't we, when Dad left her? But this; this is proof that we did exist, that we were a family." 

It had always been so important to Eleanor that everybody knew that the Dumbledore's hadn't always been broken. It meant everything to her that the world understood just what they had all been together; content, happy, strong, loyal, supportive. She clung onto her childhood with an almost feverish passion and although Severus didn't fully understand why, he accepted it because Eleanor meant the world to him, and more. Because of her feelings, it only seemed right that Hermione wore it after her mother. Severus knew that he could no longer keep it shut away in memoriam; it had to be worn, to be cherished and loved, even if it's real history, it's true meaning could not be revealed. 

It shocked Severus just how severely his heart lurched when he noticed Hermione wearing it. She had a piece of her mother, wore it against her skin and although she would never know, it was a comfort to Severus - and he thought that he might have been a comfort to Minerva but it seemed that she was too damn narrow-sighted and wrapped up in her own misery to appreciate it for what it was. 

Upon learning that Minerva knew about the necklace, Severus waited for the eventual argument with Minerva and was surprised when it did not come. He wondered if Dumbledore had a hand in stopping it but doubted it; Dumbledore had never stopped Minerva flying off the handle in past and nowadays, he barely lifted his head to look at her as she unleashed her tongue and her wand. Severus wondered what kind of man Dumbledore was that he could no look at his wife for Severus would have given anything for just one glimpse of Eleanor. 

He was thinking about her, as he was most of the time, as he pushed his dinner plate aside and made his way from the Great Hall. He was dog tired; thoughts of Eleanor and Hermione were weighing greatly on him and added to that, Dumbledore was incessantly chasing him for information on Quirrell. It was true that the pale, feeble man seemed to be spiralling in on himself and wasting away but Severus could not get anything out of him. He had tried everything; baying, understanding, bullying; but the silly man was stubborn and remained illusive. 

As Severus turned out of the hall to retreat to his rooms, he found himself following Hermione, Potter and Weasley. 

"I can't believe Malfoy got us a detention," Weasley hissed. "Bloody, Malfoy. And why does it have to be in the Forbidden Forest? Seriously, is every Professor in this school mad?" 

"We really shouldn't have been out, you know," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "I did tell you, Ron, and you Harry, but-" 

"Potter, Weasley, Granger!" Severus barked, his interest peaked by the mention of the Forbidden Forest. "Where are you three going at this hour?" 

The three of them stopped and slowly turned to face them. Potter looked at him with contempt and accusation, Weasley looked bored and Hermione's eyes were wide. 

"I'm waiting."

"We're on our way to Filch's," Potter said. "We have to meet him for our detention." 

"And has that got to do with the Forbidden Forest?" 

"That's where our detention is," Weasley replied sourly. "In the forest." 

"Are you're going too, Granger?" 

"Yes, Professor." 

Severus could hardly utter the words: "Very well, off you go," as he sent them on their way and panic rose in his throat. The Forbidden Forest? Whose bright idea was that? Didn't they know what dwelled in those tangled trees, what creatures of pain and darkness made it their home? Who thought it was a good idea to send three children in there, in the dead of night? Who thought it was a good idea to send Hermione in there? 

He wanted to follow them, to tail back, just to keep an eye out but he knew that should any of them see him, it would look suspicious. There was nothing he could do but continue to his rooms and wait. And hope. The risk of being seen was too great for him; the risk of giving the three young minds any more to chew on was too great; despite their youth, the three of them seemed to be able to work things out quick enough and he dreaded any of them coming to question any connection between him and Hermione Granger. 

Reluctantly, Severus went to his rooms, roused a fire and sank into a low-backed armchair. He knew that he should have been completing some work but now, as he watched the flames dance before his eyes and saw in them Eleanor's hair glowing and sparkling in the sun, he was not bothered about it. He would sit in silence, idle and thoughtful, until he was sure that Hermione had returned from the forest, unscathed and unharmed. 

Hours passed and his eyes grew heavy. He was just debating whether to venture back upstairs to check on the students whereabouts when a soft knock at his door made him start. Before he had a chance to answer, however, Albus Dumbledore ventured into the room, his long face clouded with concern. 

"Just because you knock doesn't give you a free pass to enter uninvited," Severus snarled at him. 

"Forgive me," Albus said quietly. "I...Forgot myself. Tell me, Severus, how are you feeling?" 

Severus cocked a brow. "How am I feeling? What sort of question is that for this time of night?" 

Dumbledore blinked a few times and visibly swallowed. "Your arm, Severus," he whispered, his lips barely moving. "Your arm."

"My arm-" Severus rose slowly from his seat, barely able to comprehend Dumbledore's words. He stared at the old wizard before him and saw in the lines of his face, terror. 

Albus nodded slowly. "I believe that Lord Voldemort is, in someway or another, returned and I wondered-" 

"I'm sorry, I cannot grasp-" Severus spluttered. "What are you saying? 'In some way or another'?" 

"There has been an incident, in the Forbidden Forest-" 

"Hermione!" Severus cried. "Is she safe? Is she-" 

Albus raised a hand. "She is quite well," he said calmly. "Quite well." 

"Explain, now!" Severus ordered, his heart in his throat. 

After a long, quiet tale of unicorn blood, centaurs and a dark figure chasing Harry Potter, Dumbledore drew in a deep breath and removed his glasses, cleaning them on his sleeve. Placing them back on he said: "So I wondered if there had been any...signs. Any tremours?" 

Severus shook his head, his mouth dry. "You always said it wasn't over," he said faintly. "Always said... But this cannot be happening. Not again. I cannot do this again, so soon. Eleanor has only been gone..." Severus buried his face in his hands as flashes of Eleanor's smile, her tears, her laugh, her sobs ran across his mind. "Who let them go in there? Who decided-" 

"Hagrid told Minerva that it would be perfectly safe-" 

"Minerva did this?" Severus bellowed. "Minerva? Minerva McGonagall who goes on and on about family and unity - she let Hermione venture-" He could hardly speak for the rage that grew inside his belly and through his veins. "I'll kill her. I'll-" 

"That will do," Albus said dismissively. "I'm sure-" 

"No! You do not get to defend her this time. You do have any authority over this. When you will and your damn wife realise that I am Hermione's father? She is of my blood and I will say what goes? What gives you the right to have any say over her?" 

Dumbledore shook his head. "We have no right, I know. Only desperation to cling onto the last remnants of our daughter." 

Severus sighed. "That is what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to keep Eleanor alive, don't you see? How could I go on living if something were to happen to Hermione? If the last link to my wonderful...beautiful-" his voice grew embarrassingly thick and he coughed loudly. "-wife, was gone?" 

To Severus's surprise, Albus reached out and squeezed his arm gently. "And that is admirable. More than I could ever ask for. You are a great man, Severus, greater and more honourable a husband than I ever was." 

"Yes, well," Severus nodded awkwardly. "I try." 

Albus hung his head and drew in a long breath. Severus couldn't help but wonder if he was considering that an ex-Death Eater had proven to be a better husband then he, the savour and inspiration of their world. Severus hadn't been surprised to learn about Albus's behaviour during his marriage to Minerva; in Severus's experience, he knew that most men were not what they seemed to the world and it was not unfathomable that Albus Dumbledore, outwardly a saint, should be a philanderer. It did surprise him, however, to learn that Minerva was completely aware of Albus's wanderings and remained with him, despite them. Severus had always thought that Minerva was much more confident, more self-assured to put up with such things from her husband but, as Eleanor said, it was a testament to how much Minerva absolutely loved her husband, how devoted she was to him. Severus knew that Albus had used that weakness; so sure was he that Minerva would remain at his side, he could do whatever he pleased and always return home to his wife, who adored him. Had Dumbledore ever really loved Minerva? Did he still? Severus had no idea. He couldn't imagine being with any other woman apart from Eleanor; he could not think of anyone that was as beautiful, as interesting, as funny and delightful as Eleanor and so he would never have had reason to stray from her. Although he held no romantic or affectionate notions for Minerva at all, Severus was not blind; he knew that she was a marvellous woman, strong, witty, dependable and good-looking. He could not think why Albus would want anyone but her, surely the women he fell into bed with couldn't compare with Minerva? What was Minerva missing that Albus had been searching for? It was a question that haunted Eleanor, who couldn't understand why her wonderful father should do such a thing, for so many years, and then leave his wife anyway. It had been a hard thing for her to accept - that her father was human, plainly so, and riddled with imperfections. She was just like Minerva, unable to accept that Albus Dumbledore was anything but a god-like creature who walked the Earth. 

"You must tell me if there is any change," Albus said seriously. "The sooner we know, the sooner we can plan - build resilience. If we need too." 

"Of course," Severus rolled his eyes. "There's no need for you to spell it out." 

Albus nodded. "That - that was a very nice gift you gave," he said slowly. "To Hermione. I didn't know- I thought Eleanor had been buried with it." 

"I thought about it," Severus replied, not looking at Albus for fear that he might catch a glimpse of Severus's grief. "And if Hermione hadn't existed, I probably would have put it in - in with her. But, I thought..." 

"Very wise," Albus muttered. "Thoughtful. I have to admit, I was glad to see it again. I remember when Minerva and I had that made; Minerva was so excited to give it to her. And Eleanor's grin as she put it on - so wide! So beautiful! Seeing it again, if only for a moment, reminded me of happier times. Of simpler, warmer times and I thank you." 

"You can thank me by reminded Minerva to stop doing stupid things and putting my daughter at risk," Severus barked. Ant further discussions about Eleanor would be too much for him to bear. "Good night, Headmaster." 

"Professor Snape," Albus muttered and swept from the room, humming Eleanor's song as he went. 


End file.
